


Flayed

by ButterflyGhost



Series: North by Northwest: due South poems [9]
Category: due South
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 18:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyGhost/pseuds/ButterflyGhost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the "Self Portrait" challenge on live journal's fan-flashworks</p><p>Fraser and his secrets, in the aftermath of Victoria.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flayed

Be a man, you tell yourself -   
But what kind of man  
Are you now?  
Hold tight, stay firm,  
You tell yourself,  
Maintain the right...

Ah, hell, who listens  
To you anyway?

Hold tight. Damned tight.  
Don't ever let an angry word  
Blurt out, burst out.  
Don't let on at all  
To anyone  
What secrets seethe inside.

And every day  
You strop the blade  
Against the leather,  
Staring at the stranger  
In the mirror,  
That man who   
Hates the skin you're in.  
And you put the edge  
To your throat,  
To your lathered chin,  
Resist the razor,  
Shave, and clean. 

You don't even let  
Your hair grow.  
Even your smile  
Is controlled.

And what's a man, anyway,  
You ask yourself,  
And who are you, anyway,  
You ask yourself,  
Behind the mirror  
And the lies?  
Those lovely untruths   
You tell yourself...  
Because honestly?   
Who needs true,  
When a lie is enough  
To make it through?

It only takes a moment  
To be courteous, you say,  
But you don't want courtesy.  
Your fist wants to break   
Through a wall.

Instead you smile,  
And open doors,  
Let everyone else come first,  
Hide your heart  
In the frozen dirt  
So that no one   
Can ever trample it  
Befoul it,  
Make it hurt,  
Again.

And she walked all over you,  
Didn't she?  
That's the filthy truth of it.  
She moved all over you,  
Bitterly,   
So sweet her touch, and sure.  
Her taste, her smell,  
Corrupting,   
Contagious,   
Cold,   
Impure.

She left you less than a man.  
And when she left  
She left you shaking  
Aching in the night  
Like any other junky,  
Aching and needing more.

And she'll be a long time gone,  
In her dark, in her cold.  
She'll be a long time gone,  
And where she's gone  
Cannot be told.

So you make yourself  
Cleaner than clean,  
Scrape away the stubble,  
And the scrabble  
And the pain,  
The sleepless nights,  
The loathing,  
And the recriminating  
Echo of her name.

Each day you paint   
Your self portrait,  
A diurnal lie, and gain  
Distance from the   
Numbing wound,  
The burning wound   
That feels no pain.

And you swear you'll never let  
Anyone close in on you,  
Pierce through you,  
Rip you, tear you,  
Ever open you,  
Flay you, display you, betray you,  
Break you apart,  
Eat your heart.   
Not like that.  
No one will touch,  
And you won't feel,  
Not like that.  
Not again.


End file.
